


Kirkwall Karaoke

by RedInkOfShame



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Karaoke, One Shot, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7454734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedInkOfShame/pseuds/RedInkOfShame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> “Oh, who’s the fresh meat?” purred Isabela, nudging Hawke with her elbow. Hawke followed Isabela’s eyes across the bar to a smallish guy wearing all black, from the beanie on his bleached-white hair to his skinny jeans. </i><br/> <br/><i>Hawke immediately slapped Isabela’s arm back. “Dibs.” </i><br/> <br/><i>Isabela’s mouth went wide with protest. “What? You can’t just call—“ </i><br/> <br/><i>“Yes she can,” Bethany interrupted. “That’s the whole point of ‘dibs’, isn’t it?” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Kirkwall Karaoke

**Author's Note:**

> bountyhunter!Hawke x hipster!Fenris  
> (feat: Awakening-style Anders)
> 
> Karaoke night at the Hanged Man leads to some very bad behavior.
> 
> I made us a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLpkZKUfD9DXuobJYPibjr3YMx0dMYCsDs) for this chapter!, so that you don't have to hunt down the songs that the companions are singing. :)  
>   
>  **Edit:** I commissioned @neotericwitch for [some art](http://redinkofshame.tumblr.com/post/150502186725/neotericwitch-a-modern-au-commission-of-fenris) for this fic--the outfits are dead on!  
>  (Also made some minor edits to the chapter.)

With a screech of her tires, Marian Hawke slid her cherry red Ducati into a parking space in front of The Hanged Man Bar and Karaoke Lounge. She killed the engine and pocketed keys into black jeans as her passenger dismounted behind her. Pulling off her helmet and standing, she took a second to tousle her hair before saying with a wink, “Did you enjoy the ride?”

Isabela laughed. “With you? Always.”

A car slowly pulled in behind them, plenty of space in the parking spot for both Hawke’s bike and Merrill’s little lime green Smart car. Bethany exited the passenger side of the car, slamming the door. “You’re going to get yourself killed, driving like that!”

“We beat you, didn’t we?” Hawke shot back at her sister. As Merrill got out of her car, Hawke complained, “Do you have to park so close to Dragonfury? You’re completely negating her cool factor.”

“But you said I could park behind you the other day... What makes your bicycle so much cooler than my car?”

“Bi- she’s not a _bicycle_ , she’s a motorcycle,” Hawke corrected, appalled.

“Well she’s got two wheels, doesn’t she? And you call her your bike. What’s so different between your Dragonfury and Daisy? They both get good gas mileage, have room for a passenger—“

“Daisy has _seatbelts_ ,” interrupted Bethany with a frown, at the same time that Isabela answered with a smile, “Dragonfury _vibrates_.”

“I was only teasing, Merrill, it’s fine. Come on.” Hawke lead the way into the bar, muttering ‘bicycle’ under her breath.

They were met with a din as soon as she opened the door; the place was pretty crowded tonight. Blaring over the speakers, and from the stage to the side, was the usual karaoke DJ’s (admittedly impressive) falsetto.

       
_Can't explain all the feelings that you're making me feel_   
_My heart's in overdrive and you're behind the steering wheel_   


       
_Touching you, touching me_   
_Touching you, ah you're touching me!_   


The combined heat of all these bodies also made it uncomfortably warm inside, but she’d be damned if she’d take off her jacket—how would anyone recognized her without the red hawk emblazoned across the back of her cropped leather jacket?

The interior was somehow more dimly lit than the parking lot outside. Not waiting for her eyes to adjust, she walked up to the bar and wordlessly handed her helmet to Corff, the bartender. He didn’t look up from the customer he was helping, only grabbed the helmet to store behind the counter for safekeeping. She slid him her credit card to open a tab as well.

“What do you think I should sing this time? I always do the same songs…” Bethany asked anxiously.

       
_I believe in a thing called love_   
_Just listen to the rhythm of my heart_   
_There's a chance we could make it now_   
_We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down_   
_I believe in a thing called love_   
_Ooh, guitar!_   


“I have a better question: what are we going to get Merrill to sing?” Isabela countered.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I forgot the words last time and just babbled, it was awful.”

Unwilling to claim that it hadn’t been, Hawke comforted Merrill by saying instead, “It’s karaoke. It’s supposed to be awful.” They made their way to the DJ’s table, and she signed up for a song of her own.

“The words are written on the _screen_ , kitten,” Isabela added patiently.

By the time everyone had signed up for a song (unbeknownst to Merrill), Corff had their usual round of drinks ready for them at the bar. Hawke and Isabela clinked glasses before dropping a shot of Marass-Lok into a glass of Redbull, chugging, and shaking their heads violently after swallowing. Gaatlokbombs were a Karaoke Night tradition, but they never went down easy.

“Hey look, it’s Creepy Guy again!” Bethany said, half shouting to be heard over the noise, as another regular took the stage. He was here every week as far as Hawke could tell—possibly every day. He seemed to know everyone in the bar, but he gave everyone nicknames, so Hawke wasn’t sure if he actually knew anyone’s name. He was also short, hairy, wore gold chains, and left his shirt mostly unbuttoned.

       
_I'm too sexy for my shirt_   
_Too sexy for my shirt_   
_So sexy it hurts_   


“Oh, be nice… I think he’s sweet,” Merrill said as she fished a cherry out of her drink. “He tells the best stories.”

Leaving the empty shot glasses as the bar, Isabela and Hawke grabbed their beer bottles, Bethany and Merrill grabbed their fruity cocktails, and the girls made their way to a table in front of the DJ and stage; Hawke liked it where the speakers were loudest.

       
_I'm too sexy for my love_   
_Too sexy for my love_   
_Love's going to leave me_   


It was difficult to kill time with small talk, as loud as it was. Luckily, no one had anything interesting to share. Hawke had brought in some easy marks this week, just some midnight runners skipping on their bail. Bethany was doing well in school, like always. Isabela was... Isabela.

Hawke tried to check out Merrill's arms, less and less discreetly, until Merrill finally sighed and rolled up her sleeves to prove that she didn't have any new cuts. "Happy, Hawke?"

Despite Merrill's attempt to sound irritated, Hawke could tell that she appreciated her checking. "Absolutely. You've been doing so well lately. Here, have Bethany's cherry."

Bethany didn't complain as her sister stuck her fingers in her drink, equally pleased with her friend's progress.

“Oh, who’s the fresh meat?” purred Isabela, nudging Hawke with her elbow. Hawke followed Isabela’s eyes across the bar to a smallish guy wearing all black, from the beanie on his bleached-white hair to his skinny jeans.

Hawke immediately slapped Isabela’s arm back. “Dibs.”

Isabela’s mouth went wide with protest. “What? You can’t just call—“

“Yes she can,” Bethany interrupted. “That’s the whole point of ‘dibs’, isn’t it?”

“Fine. She can have him. You know how much she likes the skinny hipster type, anyway,” she teased.

Hawke started to defend the stranger, but… Well, she was right. Only hipsters drank wine at a bar.

A voice called from the DJ table and through the speakers. _“Up next on the stage is the beauuu-tiful Bethany Hawke!”_

“Already?” Bethany made an ‘eek’ face and hurried up to steps to the stage. The table clapped and Merrill cheered, and Hawke leaned in towards Isabela. “The DJ is definitely trying to bang my little sister,” she muttered as the first notes of the song started.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put a stop to it. I’m willing to make that sacrifice for you.”

“Thanks, Isabela. You’re a good friend.”

       
_Like how a single word_   
_Can make a heart open_   
_I might only have one match_   
_But I can make an explosion_   


“...Wait, did you mean that you’d sleep with the DJ for me, or my little sister?”

Isabela only smiled and shrugged, of course.

“He is a bit petite, isn’t he?” mused Merrill, seemingly unaware that the conversation had moved on. “You’ll break him with those big hips of yours, Hawke.”

The other two women burst into laughter. “Damn right I will!” Hawke shouted as Merrill stammered an apology, and Isabela wiped tears from her eyes.

“Oh, that was rude wasn’t it? I didn’t mean that you…” Her babbled apology was drowned out by Bethany, who wasn’t a very good singer, though she made up for it with enthusiasm. Almost.

       
_Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep_   
_Everybody's worried about me_   
_In too deep_   
_‘Say I'm in too deep_   


       
_And it's been two years, I miss my home_   
_But there's a fire burning in my bones_   
_‘Still believe_   
_Yeah, I still believe_   


       
_No, I've still got a lot of fight left in me_   


The man’s eyes flit between Isabela and Hawke before he broke into a goofy smile and nodded, and made a beeline to the bar. Hawke rolled her eyes once his back was turned.

 _“Up next, we have Merrill!”_ called the DJ as Bethany finished.

“What?” Merrill asked, eyes wide. Isabela and Hawke cheered as Bethany dragged her up on stage. “Hey—What’s going on?”

All three of them broke out laughing at their own joke. “Exactly!”

To her credit, Merrill did her best to stammer out the lyrics on the screen, hands shaking visibly.

       
_Twenty-five years and my life is still_   
_Trying to get up that great big hill of hope_   
_for a destination_   


The waitress, Norah, finally got to their table. Hawke ordered a round of shots for the table, ignoring the protests of her sister. She also asked for a drink to be sent to her hipster, when he was done with his glass of wine.

"I do wish you’d stop making promises on my behalf,” Hawke said to Isabela, snapping a pic of Merrill on stage.

“What promises? I didn’t agree to anything, other than drinking whatever he brings us. Just shut up and enjoy your free drink.”

       
_And so I wake in the morning_   
_And I step outside_   
_And I take a deep breath_   
_And I get real high_   
_And I scream from the top of my lungs,_   
_‘What's going on’_   


“Well, maybe I’ll join you anyway, but only if things don’t work out with the hipster tonight. You’re missing all the playful banter, all the foreplay. Your way may be effective, but it’s no fun.”

“Oh, the fun part comes later.”

“Didn’t you drop that Sebastian guy for taking too long to make a move?” Bethany asked her sister.

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Well I didn’t say the foreplay should last forever. Why would I pick someone up in a bar if I wasn’t trying to get some action?” she explained distractedly as she pretended like she wasn’t watching broody at the bar, waiting for him to finish his drink already.

       
_And I say, hey yeah yeah, hey yeah yeah_   
_I said 'hey, what's going on?'_   


In her periphery, trying not to be obvious, Hawke watched the man finally swallow the last dregs of his wine. He soon leaned into the bar, presumably trying to order another glass from the bartender. Corff presented him instead with a mixed drink, adding the ingredient that made it glow blue before handing it to the confused hipster.

She watched with a smirk as he slowly lifted the glass and sniffed the Lyrium curiously. Corff gestured towards her, and Hawke raised a bottle to him as they met each other’s eyes again.

There was a moment of staring; just long enough for Hawke to think he’d refuse the drink. Then he smiled a delicious little half-smile. Never breaking eye-contact over the rim of the glass, he took a slow sip.

Minutes passed, and she waited to see if he’d accept the implied invitation and come talk to her. But he didn’t. He seemed to be set on finishing his drink first, leaning easily against the bar and occasionally glancing in her direction. He was proving to be a slow drinker.

To her friends, she murmured, “ _Maker…_ Look at his tattoos.”

The white lines on his chin (that she assumed were to compensate for his inability to grow ironic facial hair) were also on his hands, and practically glowed blue in the light of the drink.

Isabela looked up, and asked with arched eyebrows, “Do you think they go all the way down?”

“Oh, they do. Look at his feet,” Merrill answered from behind them as she moved to her seat, pointing at the man. Hawke wanted to tell her not to point to strangers, but the guilt of not realizing when it was time to clap for Merrill stopped her. “He’d be fun under a black light, wouldn’t he?”

Hawke followed the offending finger, and saw that he was wearing grass-woven flips-flops that he’d no doubt picked up from a farmer’s market. Merrill was right—Broody had white lines on his feet as well.

Interesting.

“ _Hawke! You’re up!_ ”

She grinned. She was more than ready to get loud. She climbed the stage in one big step, forgoing the stairs, and grabbed the microphone.

       
_Back door bitches begging me to behold_   
_All their cash and cars, platinum, silver'n gold_   
_We're like 'diamonds in the sky,' that is what we are told_   
_No mountain made of money can buy you a soul_   


She lost herself in the thrum of the bass in her boots, ears ringing, but she made sure her hipster was still watching her as he finished his drink. She didn't need anyone who was easily scared off.

       
_It's a fucked up world_   
_What do you get from it?_   
_Sex and love and guns, light a cigarette_   
_Sex and love and guns, light a cigarette_   


Before the song started to trail off, he turned toward the bar, and then headed out the back. He made sure she saw him go, though, and she gave him a little nod.

Take that, Isabela.

The round she’d bought was waiting for at their table—half of it, anyway. Isabela was gone, but so was her drink. She must have convinced Bethany to drink as well, based off of the way she could no longer hold her head up. Hawke lifted her glass to Merrill. “Cheers!”

“Oh, no, I really shouldn’t…”

Hawke shrugged. They’d learned the hard way not to push Merrill into drinking past her limit; she was a real light weight.

“ _Isabela, you’re next!_ ”

“Where’s Isabela?” Hawke asked. 

“Oh, she’s um, in the bathroom…”

“Blowing that guy, I bet!” Bethany shouted, raising her head to giggle madly.

The DJ chuckled. “ _Isabela, going once! Going twice!_ ”

“Oh, I’m coming already!” Isabela shouted, hardly bothered to adjust the long t-shirt (that she insisted was a dress) as she sped to the stage.

“That’s what she said—!” Bethany barely got her joke out before choking on her own laughter. Hawke laughed at them both, and drank Merrill’s shot. As she made her way out, she caught Norah and asked for some water to be sent to the table.

She walked as fast as she could on five inch heels after so many drinks, trying to avoid hearing any more of Isabela’s off-key rendition than necessary. Isabela didn’t even try, she just liked the attention.

       
_Hoo, like a virgin_   
_Touched for the very first time_   
_Like a virgin_   
_When your heart beats_   
_Next to mine_   


Up the stairs was a door that led outside to a walled-off smoking area with an assortment of mismatched patio furniture. The speakers still played the music, but they mercifully weren’t connected to the singer’s microphone.

Hawke didn’t realize how stuffy it was inside until she was out. She sucked in a lungful and it was a breath of fresh air, literally. Well, almost literally. It did smell like cloves.

As the door closed, she saw her broody hipster standing off behind it, holding a clove cigarette in one and two shot glasses filled with a brown/black liquid in the other. Wordlessly, he held one out to her.

She accepted the offer with a smirk, and clicked glasses with him in silent cheers. She was almost tempted to keep their flirtations non-verbal, but she opted instead to ask, “What’s in this?”

She didn’t wait for his answer before tossing it down—she wasn’t going to refuse the drink based on the contents, she was just curious.

“It’s a Blight. Hope you like it strong. It’s part—“

“ _Merciful Maker_ ," Hawke choked and sputtered in surprise, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol. "You could fuck a woman with that voice alone.”

It was his turn for surprise, but he recovered quickly. “For a beautiful woman like you, I could endeavor to.” He swallowed his own drink smoothly.

“I didn’t quite catch that first part…” She inched closer to him, towering over him a bit as she set her shot glass on a nearby ashtray. He did the same.

He chuckled. “I don’t need to repeat the obvious, I’m certain.”

She leaned in, running a hand up his chest. He made no move to stop her. “But it sounds so good coming from you… Say something else.”

She wanted to feel the vibrations in his chest when he spoke. She was being more than a little obvious, perhaps, but what right did such a lean guy have, owning such a deep voice?

“My name is Fenris,” he complied, amusement in his voice.

“No last name?”

“No."

“Well, Fenris,” She leaned in, lips nearing his. Cigarette forgotten in one hand, he rest his other hand on her hip. “I’m Hawke.”

“No first name?”

She grinned. “Just Hawke.”

Fingers finding her beltloop, Fenris pulled her closer to him, but before their lips met the speakers blared.

_“Fenris, you’re up! Fenris!”_

She pulled back and stepped away, and he let out a little growl of annoyance that landed somewhere between sexy and adorable. She headed inside, hips swaying, expecting him to follow. He did.

Fenris calmly made for the mic, and she joined her friends at the table again. When Hawke neared, Isabela stood and announced that she actually had to use the restroom now, expecting Hawke to go with her. Hawke grabbed her arm instead. “Sit. You’ll want to hear this.”

Isabela obediently sat on the nearest available surface and turned towards the stage.

       
_Hello darkness, my old friend_   
_I've come to talk with you again_   


He held the microphone away from him, the rumble of his baritone easily heard without it. Around them conversations stopped as he sang, including her companions. Isabela was enrapt with the roughness of his voice, Bethany thought the song was beautiful, and Merrill just thought he was a good singer. Hawke fell somewhere or everywhere in that spectrum.

       
_And the people bowed and prayed_   
_To the neon God they made_   
_And the sign flashed out its warning_   
_And the words that it was forming_   


       
_And the sign said,_   
_"The words of the prophets_   
_Are written on the subway walls_   
_And tenement halls_   
_And whispered in the sound of silence.”_   


As the people clapped and the last notes of the song eased away, Fenris slid the microphone back into the stand.

“I think I just came a little,” Isabela said, loudly, in the quiet between songs, sending Bethany into another fit of giggles.

The DJ wriggled his eyebrows. “Don’t I get any credit for that? You’re sitting on my equipment, after all. My expensive equipment. Again.”

Isabela looked down, as if she hadn’t noticed the vibrations from the speaker she was sitting on. “Oh, would you look at that?”

“Get _off_ , Isabela,” he said as he stepped onto his stage.

“Oh, I’ll get off, on your equipment… Or something.”

“That was bad, even for you,” Bethany chided.

Isabela’s retort was drowned out by the voice over the speakers.

_“Well, that song was a real downer, wasn’t it? Hope you’re all still having a good time tonight! For those new faces I see in the crowd, I’m Anders, and this is Kirkwall Karaoke! The wait is short, so sign up at the table and I’ll play your songs in whatever order I please. And, as always, it’s my microphone, so I get to sing whenever I want. How about a little pick me up?”_

As the DJ gave his spiel, the waitress came to check on them. Hawke saw Fenris heading towards the smoking area again, but she ordered another drink anyway, and then escorted Isabela to the ladies’ room while listening to her complain about unjust ‘dibs’ rulings.

       
_We didn't start the fire_   
_It was always burning_   
_Since the world's been turning_   
_We didn't start the fire_   
_No we didn't light it_   
_But we tried to fight it_   


By the time the two women stumbled back to their seats, the drunk leading the drunk, Bethany and Merrill were singing a duet. Or, at least singing the same song together, Bethany’s voice only partially covering Merrill’s flat tone.

Hawke sat, and saw that Fenris had returned to his spot leaning against the bar, sipping a new glass of wine and scanning the room like he was being casual and totally not looking for her. He noticed her watching him almost immediately and she winked, gesturing to an empty spot at the table.

       
_Woah yeh_   
_I'm walking on sunshine, woooah_   
_I'm walking on sunshine, woooah_   
_I'm walking on sunshine, woooah_   
_And don't it feel good!_   


He stayed where he was, and she assumed he was making her wait, which was only fair after she’d disappeared on him. Or, maybe a table full of inebriated women was daunting. In any case, she acted like she didn’t care by pulling out her phone and adding to her SnapChat Story, and sending a few texts. It was more challenging than it ought to have been, the way there were two phones whenever she tried to focus her vision. She was surprised autocorrect didn’t give up on her clumsy fingers all together.

Norah came back around carrying a tray of drinks, but refused to relinquish them, sticking her hand in Hawke’s face with a ‘gimme’ motion instead. Hawke rolled her eyes and reached into the pocket of her too-tight jeans, fishing out her keys and depositing them into Norah’s hand in exchange for the drink.

Hawke had never been stupid enough to drive drunk before, she didn’t see why everyone thought she couldn’t be trusted. Besides, it wasn't like she’d ever risk anything happening to Dragonfury.

“Sis, maybe you should slow down…” Bethany suggested, nursing her water as Hawke and Isabela clinked and downed another shot. Hawke winced at the taste, and then again at the roll of her stomach. She nodded; her sister might have a point.

When she opened her eyes Fenris was pulling up a chair next to her, revealing his reason for waiting at the bar by handing her a beer.

So much for that.

She paced herself on this drink, at least, matching Fenris’ drinking rate. Leaning towards him, she said huskily, “Hmm. Looks like I’ll need someone to give me a ride tonight.”

“I can give you a ride, Hawke,” Merrill piped up. “I only have one seat, but maybe I can take Bethany home and then come back for you, or you can sit in her… oh.” Merrill stopped as Isabela nudged her and shook her head.

Hawke really needed to find some cooler friends.

Fenris, to her surprise, didn’t look too eager to take her up on the offer. “Perhaps… It would be best to go home with your friends. You have had a lot to drink tonight.”

“ _Aawwww_ ,” Bethany squeed drunkenly. “That’s so sweeeet, Hawke, he doesn’t want to take advantage of you!”

Hawke made a face and let out an exasperated sigh. “Fenris, this is my super lame drunk sister, Bethany. This is my bad influence, Isabela, and this is my, I don’t know, hippy friend, Merrill.”

Isabela waggled her fingers and Merrill started protesting, “I’m not a—”

“Nice to meet all of you.”

“It’s getting late. I’m going to see when they’re going to play our song so I can go to bed,” Bethany announced abruptly, lurching to her feet and going to the DJ. Hawke spied the DJ struggling not to look down Bethany’s shirt while she leaned on his table for support. Hawke glared at Isabela, who sighed and moved in to play interference.

Hawke turned back to Fenris. “She knows I won’t go home without singing a group song. Traditions are important,” she explained. Then she leaned in towards him, pouting with red lips. “And I was sober when I sent you that drink. Don’t punish a girl for having a few drinks before getting the chance to enact on the poor decisions made while sound of mind.”

His expression eased, though Hawke wasn’t sure he was entirely convinced. Soon, Bethany returned to the table, and Hawke could hear Isabela still flirting with Anders behind her. The rest of them made light conversation, mostly at the expense of the other singers, waiting their turn to go up again. Fenris barely spoke, but he looked comfortable with the group. A good sign.

When Anders called them up Hawke tugged on Fenris’ wrist, but he lagged behind. “It’s your tradition. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

That was smooth. And a lie. She was sure he just didn’t want to take any part in their crappy song, and she was sure he wouldn’t be getting any from her if he didn’t. She arched an eyebrow pointedly and held a microphone down to him. He sighed, and reluctantly joined her foursome on little wooden stage.

       
_I've paid my dues_   
_Time after time_   
_I've done my sentence_   
_But committed no crime_   


       
_And bad mistakes_   
_I've made a few_   
_I've had my share of sand kicked in my face_   
_But I've come through_   


Fenris was no fun, staying to the back of the stage, while the girls sang exaggeratedly, arms slung around each other and swaying off kilter. Soon, of course, the whole bar joined in. Hawke pulled out her phone to record it.

       
_We are the champions my friends_   
_And we'll keep on fighting till the end_   
_We are the champions_   
_We are the champions_   
_No time for losers_   
_'Cause we are the champions_   
_Of ~~the world~~ Kirkwall!_   


Half the bar changed the last word of the song, familiar with the Hawke gang's version. Bethany and Merrill giggled as everyone started to find their seats again, but the DJ said to Hawke, “Stay put, you’ve gotten another song coming up.”

Oh yeah. She’d nearly forgotten about that—her plan C, in case the drink hadn’t been enough to grab the mysterious hipster’s attention.

       
_You don't know that I know,_   
_You watch me every night_   
_And I just can't resist the urge_   
_To stand here in the light_   
_You're greedy eyes upon me_   
_And then I come undone_   
_And I could close the curtains_   
_But this too much fun_   


It certainly got his attention now. He remained standing, watching her. She never took her eyes off of him, singing to him.

       
_So much left unspoken_   
_Between the two of us_   
_It's so much more exciting_   
_To look when you can’t touch_   


       
_You could say I am different_   
_And maybe I'm a freak_   
_But I know how to twist ya_   
_To bring you to your knees_   


Fenris leaned in towards the DJ, who rolled his eyes at whatever Fenris said, but nodded.

       
_I get off on you_   
_Getting off on me_   
_I give you what you want_   
_Yeah!_   


Fenris met her on stage, giving her a mischievous look as he took the microphone from her. Before she’d made it completely off the stage, Hawke recognized the song from the heavy beat.

Oh no.

       
_You let me violate you_   
_You let me desecrate you_   
_You let me penetrate you_   
_You let me complicate you_   


He held her pinned with wolfish look in his eyes, though Hawke managed a sidelong at Isabela, who seemed to be having a hard time remembering she was trying to score with Anders, despite sitting in his lap. They exchanged a look and Hawke fanned herself, only half joking.

       
_I want to fuck you like an animal_   
_I want to feel you from the inside_   
_I want to fuck you like an animal_   
_My whole existence is flawed_   
_You get me closer to gods_   


Hawke didn’t wait for the last verse of his serenade. Instead, she made for the back patio. She would have opted for the privacy of the storeroom, if she thought he’d know where to find her.

Behind her, Fenris was equally impatient. After the last line was sung, she heard him leaving the stage while the rest of the music kept playing. Out on the patio, she leaned against the brick wall with arms crossed, to resist the urge to pounce on him the moment he caught up to her.

When he came through the door a moment later, she nearly did anyway. He stopped before her, silent as ever.

“You don’t talk much, for a man whose voice makes panties drop.”

“Perhaps I’m simply tired of trying to be heard over the sound of dropping panties.”

“Oh? Maybe that’s why you enjoy talking to me. You see,” She stepped away from the wall and towards him. Moving slowly, she pulled forward on her jeans, looking down them until his eyes followed. “I don’t seem to be wearing any.”

With a growl, he grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her into a hard kiss. When he pulled back only a second later she bit his lip and spun him, pushing him up against the rough wall hard enough to elicit a grunt. The last clear memories she’d have of this night were her hands braced to either side of his head, and his roaming up and down her back and she leaned down to him.

~~~~~

Hawke woke the next morning slowly, painfully, and with a groan. Head pounding, she gradually managed to open her eyes, despite the bright sunlight streaming through a thin curtain. Next to her the bed was empty, but Fenris was likely still around somewhere—this was his place, after all.

She sat up in the bed and searched the floor, trying to locate her pants, and, by extension, her phone. Hopefully. She started to reach for her jeans, but stopped short as her stomach roiled in protest. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath. She’d be fine. Focus, deep breaths, it’ll pass. Just keep—

Nope. Nopenopenope. She jumped up and lurched to what appeared to be a master bathroom. Fortunately, not only was it a bathroom, but she managed to hunch over the toilet bowl before spilling her guts. As she heaved she was vaguely aware of a strange contraption to the side… Was that a bidet?

By the time she was done retching, Fenris was leaning against the door frame, holding two steaming mugs. She looked up, resenting him for wearing pants while she was collapsed naked on the floor in front of the porcelain. Unable to withstand the indignity, she straightened herself and said, “What, you’re not going to offer to hold my hair back?”

“You don’t have enough hair to hold, though I could pull it if you’d like,” he replied, the rumble of his voice miraculously at a pitch that didn’t compound her headache. “All I could find was instant. I hope it’s sufficient. Here.”

He held the coffee out to her as she stood, and she took it eagerly. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hand shot to her face as she panicked for a second, thinking there was a streak of blood across her nose. As it smeared under her fingertips, she asked, “Why do I have lipstick all over my face?”

“Something about ‘war paint’, as I recall.” He was smirking.

She mouthed a little ‘ah’, and then took a sip of the mediocre coffee. She swallowed hard. “I might be better off with the hair of the dog.”

“You know, I’d never heard that phrase until the Fereldans started moving to town.”

She laughed, winced at the sound, and drank her coffee. Her brain steadily woke up with the rest of her. They were quiet as they drank, but it felt comfortable, not awkward. He was still standing between her and her pants, though.

Thus began the portion of the one night stand where they needed to figure out if they wanted anything more from this exchange. Usually while avoiding talking about it directly, like adults.

Well, she had nothing to do today and was happy to stick around, but she wouldn’t begrudge him if he wanted her out of there as soon as possible; they’d made no promises. Well, not as far as she could remember, anyway. Still, he didn’t seem to be rushing her out the door (as he was, in fact, preventing her from leaving through the door), and she felt a tad cheated that she couldn’t seem to recall the details of the night before.

Fortunately for her, she had long since mastered this technique. She sent her empty mug near the sink, and rubbed her forehead theatrically. “Boy… I really need a shower.”

Now, someone who wanted you to leave would interpret this as saying you needed to go home, to your own shower. They’d respond with relieved goodbyes, or excuses about plans for the day. Maybe offer to exchange numbers, or give you a ride to your place. But someone who was up for wasting the day together, marathoning cheesy sci-fi shows on Netflix and fooling around on the couch, they’d say something like—

“I could use one as well. Do you mind if I join you?”

She smiled, perhaps a tad giddily. Then she turned around and turned on the shower… Or tried to, anyway. It was a large shower, with three showerheads and a handful of attachments she didn’t recognize. “How do you work this thing?”

“How should I know?”

She laughed, amused that he was too hung-over for simple tasks. She was beginning to think she was alone in feeling miserable. Between the two of them, they eventually managed to get a proper shower going. “You’d think people would know how to work their own shower,” she joked, stepping in.

“Yes, you would,” he replied pointedly.

“Oh, shoot, that was a wasted opportunity. Isabela would be ashamed. I should have ‘work their plumbing,’ or something about laying pipe. At the least, something about getting hot and steamy…”

Hawke hadn’t seen much of Fenris’ place yet, but she was impressed. And a little confused. Hadn’t he been too broke to pay for the Uber ride home last night? Maybe he inherited this place. This bathroom definitely said ‘money’. As did the hot water heater, by the way it managed to last through the entire shower; it was a long one. They got a whole lot dirtier before they started getting clean.

When she was out of the shower, drying her hair with perhaps the fluffiest towel she’d ever held, she caught a glimpse of herself in the foggy mirror—red streak and all.

She slapped Fenris’ shoulder with a laugh. “You brat! You could have reminded me to wash my face!”

He shrugged, wrapping a towel around his hips. “I think it suits you.”

She paused, towel halfway to her face. Well, she wasn’t going out just yet… Perhaps she’d leave the lipstick on for just a bit longer.

Wrapped in her towel, she stepped back into the bedroom and grabbed her phone at last. She sat on the edge of the bed and checked her battery, and was surprised to find that it was still alive, just barely. She wasn’t surprised that it was already noon. No wonder she was starving.

“I’ll make you a deal, Fenris. I’ve got enough cash to pay for take-out if you call to ord—aw, why are you putting your pants back on?”

He gave her a sidelong smirk, and it was a very good look on him. “I figured you wouldn’t want me smoking inside, and I probably shouldn’t go out without them. The neighbors might not appreciate it.” He grabbed his own outdated phone, and added as he headed out the door, “I’m not very familiar with this area, but I’ll find us something.”

It was sweet of him, Bethany would say, not to smoke in his own house for her. Though, if this house was inherited like she thought, it would probably be best that he took better care of it, anyway. He must have moved recently, if he still didn’t know the neighborhood very well.

She decided to dress to match—black jeans and nothing else. She moved into the living room to pull up some old episodes of Mass Effect on Netflix, hoping he wouldn’t mind. She was almost done with the third season, and wanted to finish it before the new one came out.

She quickly gave up, though, only able to procure a blue screen; there were, like, 6 remotes, and she didn’t know if he used a console or a box or what. She decided she’d wait for him to come back in, and instead searched for a spare phone charger.

She found one easily enough, plugged in near the endtable. She also spied some unopened mail on the table. She had no right to look, of course, but she couldn’t quite help herself. Not that she tried.

The senders weren’t anything scandalous, just bills, but the receiving address read ‘Danarius’.

So his name was Fenris Danarius, then? Well, it didn’t have much of a ring to it, but it was nothing to be embarrassed of. She’d heard worse.

She curled up in the corner of the couch and checked her messages. Some concerned messages from her sister that she promptly ignored, and one indecipherable drunk text from Isabela saying something about ‘electricity is niiice’. Hawke surmised that she’d ended up with the DJ after all.

Opening SnapChat and checked her Story, looking to divine if her memory was missing anything good from last night.

 

The first several images were standard karaoke night—doing shots with Isabela, Merrill and Bethany singing, Fenris from across the bar, labeled,  
**[Check him oooout! Gonna make him mine tonight]**

A picture that must have been taken several hours later of her winking, finger to her lips, in the back of a car. Fenris’ appeared to be biting her neck, ignoring the camera.  
**[Uber driver is about to get a show!]**

A video of a car driving away on an empty street. The sound quality was shit, but she could hear her own drunken swearing. The camera was shaking wildly.  
**[Uber kicked us out!! No idea where we are. :( ]**

A selfie of her smiling exaggeratedly, taken with her arm around a reluctant looking man in what appeared to be an alley.  
**[Isabela! Found your “former” dealer Martin while walking home! ;) haha]**

A camera angled around a corner. Police car and lights in the background. A blonde and a redhead, both sporting headbands and police uniforms, talking to Martin.  
**[Fuck! KPD. When did they get so hot tho??]**

A blurry, very dark, barely discernable selfie of Fenris and her. He was glowering.  
**[We’re hiding but realized that we didn’t do wrong but now it looks like we did??]**

Her, using her front-facing camera to apply lipstick to her nose.  
**[Putting on my mabari warpaint. Ready to fight my way out!]**

A completely black picture.  
**[Lol almost got caught bc of the light from my phone**

A video of Fenris punching through a window, reaching in to unlock a door.  
**[OMG he just broke into this place to hide us! I think I’m in <3]**

A picture of curling white lines in pitch dark.  
**[Omgggggg his tats!! Isabela you should see his dick!!]**

A pic of a tattooed palm covering her camera lens.  
**[He says no sex until I put the phone down okay bye everyone]**  


She debated whether or not to delete the Story for a moment, thumbs wriggling indecisively. She had a general rule of not posting evidence of her breaking the law online, which she obviously neglected last night. Well, at least she had fun, before they eventually found their way to his place.

She was still on her phone when Fenris came back in, holding out his phone and checking the bottoms of his feet. “I need your address if we’re going to get it delivered, Danarius.”

She looked at him, brow furrowed, as she tried to understand him, her hung-over brain struggling to keep up. Why her address? Was that a marriage joke, about her taking his last name? Why was there broken glass by the door behind him? “Why did you call me that?”

“It’s your name, isn’t it? It’s on the mailbox out front. I’m surprised you aren’t fond of it; isn’t that the name of that dragon queen from that show?”

Hawke’s eyes flickered from him to the broken window behind him, and back again. “Danarius isn’t my name... It’s your name. Because this is your house.”

Slowly, he hit the [end call] button. Dubiously, he replied, “No, it’s not, Hawke.”

They both stared at each other in confusion for a moment before they both, painfully slow, realized what was going on.

Hawke leapt up and ran for the bedroom, followed closely by Fenris. She most certainly did not giggle at him as the two of them hurriedly pulled on their clothes, as spending most of the day in a house you broke into was a very serious matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, did this piece ever get away from me. I can't find the original prompt (I'll update this with credit the next time I come across it), but it was something like 'Imagine your OTP waking up hung-over in an apartment that doesn't belong to either of them.'
> 
> You'll notice it says nothing about 71% of the fic being about karaoke night. But I figured they should meet in a bar, and I only go to karaoke bars, I actually met my spouse in a karaoke bar... So I guess I have some karaoke feels. It was an interesting pacing mechanism.


End file.
